La Case aux Follies
by GrandEclectus
Summary: Hobbes and Fawkes follow a lead to Arnaud into a Gay Gentleman’s club.
1. 17 Million Dollar File Clerk

Title: La Case aux Follies (1) See footnotes section  
  
Status: Complete  
  
Author: Betsy (aka AnitaLife, because honest to god, I really need a life!)  
  
E-me: betsybird27@hotmail.com  
  
Feedback: Sure.  
  
Disclaimers: So sue me. No! Don't. This is just some wandering musings. I mean no harm. To paraphrase another fic writer: These aren't my characters. I just take 'em off the shelf and play with them once in awhile. The Invisible Man is the property of Stu Segall Productions.  
  
Rating: PG-13. Some adult situations. Some language. Depiction of Gay nightlife and transvestites.  
  
Archive: Sure; just let me know where it ends up so I can get you the most recent version.  
  
Spoilers: None that I'm aware of.  
  
Music: It's Raining Men by The Weathergirls  
  
Synopsis: Hobbes and Fawkes follow a lead to Arnaud into a Gay Gentleman's club. As they begin their snooping (er.investigating), Hobbes finds himself in the arms of Madame Zaza, an exquisitely beautiful crystal ball and tarot reading medium who owns the club and Fawkes finds himself in the arms of big trouble. A Lunatic Plot Contrivance (1a) occurs and our boys are on a collision course with wackiness.  
  
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An ancient Chinese proverb says that "A good friendship is often more important than a passionate romance." Well, actually it was from a fortune cookie I swiped last night from Hobbes' take-out. (2)  
  
  
  
Fawkes sat grim faced on the office floor in a sea of stacked papers and manila folders. His mission, whether he wanted to accept it or not, was to organize every piece of paper and correctly place them into one of the monolithic metal cabinets that lined the room. Hobbes sat about 6 feet away concentrating on the sheaves of papers in his hands.  
  
"Fawkes? You see the 0610 Stroke 9 form that goes with the Melinsky file?  
  
"Fawkes?  
  
"FAWKES?"  
  
Darien started from his misery. "What?" he snapped.  
  
"I said, do you see that 0610 Stroke 9 report form.. Ah nuts! What's wrong with you THIS time?"  
  
"Nothing." Darien pouted.  
  
"Nothing's wrong?"  
  
"No. Nothing."  
  
"Because it doesn't look like nothing's wrong. It looks like something's wrong because when something's not wrong that is, when nothing's wrong, I can at least ask my partner a simple question and get a simple answer WITHOUT SHOUTING!"  
  
"OK!!!" But, Darien just sat and sulked. But, as he pushed a few folders around without aim he could feel Hobbes staring at him with that disgusted cat look that said more than his words ever could.  
  
"OK." He relented. "It's just that I can't believe the Fat Man has us sitting here in this, this hole, shuffling papers around this room. What happened last week wasn't my fault or yours for that matter. It's just what happened! You know; sometimes things just.just explode! Ka-Boom! I don't see why either one of us has to be punished!"  
  
"Fawkes, is that what you think this is? Detention? Geez Louise! Sometimes you really ARE as dumb as you look!"  
  
This pronouncement didn't help Darien's mood. He smirked at Hobbes. "Ha, ha and ha." he replied as sarcastically as possible.  
  
"Let me tell you something, my friend. Any day I don't have to spend out there trying to keep your transparent butt in one piece or a day when I don't have to worry about both of us getting shot at or worst is like a vacation!"  
  
"But you LOVE getting shot at or worst!" Darien attempted.  
  
"True. But, it's always nice to have a little break.  
  
"Darien, we aren't being punished! We're just doing some agency scutwork and resting up for the next mission."  
  
"Whatever."  
  
"Now, do you have ANY part of the Melinsky file? Ya know, the less sulking you do, the faster we can finish up and go home. Eberts' head is gonna explode if he sees this mess."  
  
Darien made a disheartened effort to concentrate on the evil little pieces of paper. "17 Million Dollar File Clerk." he muttered.  
  
Eberts chose that moment to attempt to enter the room. His eyes widened at the disarray splattered out before him.  
  
"Hey, Ebs, how's it going?" asked Darien.  
  
"The Official would like to speak to you both." Eberts stated through his grimace. He KNEW he would have a mop up job when Thing One and Thing Two were "finished" with the files, but this was even worst than he could ever imagine.  
  
Darien wasted no time unfolding his lanky body and bolting for the door like Marmaduke being called for dog chow. Hobbes attempted to gather papers, but Eberts stopped him with "No no! You're needed." He put an arm on the kneeling agent's shoulder. "Urgently. Please. Just go." his voice caught in his throat.  
  
Hobbes controlled a little smile and tried to look apologetic.  
  
"No. Please, Mr. Hobbes. Go...Now."  
  
Eberts looked over the room with the distraught air of a General surveying the carnage of a lost battle. He straightened his tie and closed the door, leaving the disaster until after the mission briefing. 


	2. Briefing

"And, you'll be undercover, of course. You'll need to blend in. Hobbes, see that your partner is properly attired." ordered the Official. Eberts handed each man a file with their new respective personas.  
  
Even with the last pointed comment, Darien sat still and listened attentively. Bobby was painfully aware of his partner's wagging tail attitude. The kid was actually quite happy to be in this room, being briefed for their next assignment. What a remarkable and refreshing difference THAT was. Hobbes hardly recognized the guy!  
  
Bobby kept his poker face but secretly he was admiring the Official's strategy. Maybe the file clerking had a positive effect after all!  
  
Some days he thought that Darien was given a bad shake in life. He pulled a few penny ante heists and ended up with an invisibility gland in his head. Hobbes also realized that the Agency was one of the better things to have come along in the kid's checkered career. He needed some discipline, and a purpose on THIS side of the law.  
  
It was the best that could possibly be made of a terrible situation. But, human nature and Darien's nature being what it was, it was hard for him to appreciate the break he'd finally been given. His flip wise guy coping technique could be over the top, but then again, it was one of his more endearing traits.  
  
Still it seemed like only last week, Darien was cracking wise, slumping in his place with one long leg draped casually over the arm of the chair. Well, it WAS only last week. Now he was sitting up, even leaning forward, showing respect and actually interested in the assignment. It was nice to see him NOT dragging his feet like a man on his way to his own execution. Way to go, 'Fish, thought Hobbes.  
  
"Banana Hammock"  
  
"Beg pardon sir?" requested Hobbes.  
  
Darien's eyebrows rose, but he said nothing. He could think of about a million retorts, cracks, jibes, jokes, comments but he kept a lid on it. It was killing him. But, he wanted, for once in life, to be good.  
  
"That's the name of the discothèque. It's in the art gallery district. Our lead places Arnaud de Ferhn at the club on a number of occasions."  
  
"Really?" Hobbes said meaningfully. "Didn't suspect he went that route."  
  
"I don't think he does, but that is immaterial. My gut instinct is that it's a cover location. I want you two to find out what's going on in there."  
  
"Um, sir"  
  
"Yes, Darien."  
  
"If this is a Chrysalis hide out, won't we be recognized?" All dealings with de Ferhn made him uneasy at best.  
  
"Gentlemen, I expect that you are able to infiltrate dangerous situations without attracting undue attention to your selves. I think you two will fit in quite well actually, and I believe you'll be able to pull this one off without a hitch."  
  
Bobby and Darien automatically looked at each other. Famous last words, if they'd ever heard them. 


	3. Technocolor Closet

A little of the foot dragging came back into play once Hobbes was helping Darien find the right wardrobe for the Banana Hammock. Looking into Darien's closeted collection of odd ball flea market "finds" and thrift store rejects made Bobby's eyes hurt. Hobbes kept pawing through the clothes trying to find something that wasn't in Technicolor.  
  
Hobbes picked out a leopard spotted blue rayon shirt. "You really do work at this, don't you?" he stated.  
  
"Work at what?" asked Darien, unsure.  
  
"Dressing like a freak."  
  
"I don't dress like a freak! I'll have you know I have an instinct for great clothes!"  
  
"I mean. Look at this!" Hobbes continued without a beat. These sneakers have checker patterns, and for your size 15s! How do you even FIND this stuff? And, what's this one?"  
  
"That sir, is a fine, vintage Hawaiian shirt. Very trendy and up to date." Darien snatched it from Hobbe's hand with annoyance.  
  
"Heh heh! Lovely. Ya know, it's best to NOT take wardrobe lessons from Mr. "Weird Al" Yankovic. We might just have to go on a shopping expedition to Today's Man once this assignment is over!"  
  
"Oh, I don't think so." Darien snuffed, shaking his head.  
  
Hobbes continued, "Do you have any two socks that match?"  
  
"And, why do I have to be "Bryce", anyway?" Darien whined. "Why can't I be "Steve?"  
  
Hobbes ignored his words but pulled the caution yellow shirt out of his hands. "You're not going as a drag queen, ya know. Just look good. We're tryin' to fit in, remember?  
  
"And anyway, how do you know how to dress 'gay'? When did you become the expert?" Darien asked with his familiar sarcasm.  
  
"You're not going to dress 'gay', whatever that is. You're just trying to look like a guy out for a night at the club. There is no 'gay'".  
  
The two went on bickering like an old married couple until Darien was roughly done up in what Hobbes expected for the club. Silk fern colored shirt with pleated 40's style black pants. Eat your heart out, Harry Connick Jr.  
  
For himself, Hobbes went for a classic James Dean look. The tight white tee showed off his musculature perfectly.  
  
"Besides," Hobbes said sincerely, "I think you'll just naturally get a lot of attention. No need to underscore the point." Hobbes was on his cel phone just saying, "Yeah. Go ahead." and he cut off the mysterious call.  
  
Darien stopped fussing with clothes to look up when Hobbes' comment hit him and cast a hapless realization on his face. Hobbes stepped next to him, tossing his arm around his back as Claire popped into the room and snapped a shot of the pair.  
  
"Thanks, Bobby." she smiled and giggled as she ran out.  
  
"Yes, Bobby, thank you so much!" groaned Darien. Would it EVER end? 


	4. Into the Fray

The techno sound pounding out of the Banana Hammock was muffled through the thick metal entrance door. Darien shuffled with unease and Bobby startled him by looping his arm around his arm.  
  
"Oh, great."  
  
"We're just fitting in, my friend.  
  
"Clang, Clang, Clang." Hobbes gave the password through the little window that opened up into the club. The window snapped shut, abruptly and they were left there for a few pregnant minutes.  
  
"I think I'm over the rainbow with a Munchkin." sniped Darien under his breath.. "'Clang, clang, clang????" (3)  
  
"They have a sense of humor you know. Hey, don't worry, Bryce, just first date jitters."  
  
Darien cast him a venomous glare from up over his eyes.  
  
"You can go ahead and wipe that look off your face. You're supposed to be out having a good time with your boyfriend."  
  
"After this, I'm going to need a counter-agent for another kind of Agent!"  
  
"Shhh"  
  
And, then they were in.  
  
"It's an old password," stated the host, "but come in. Enjoy your stay, gentleman."  
  
Nightlife over the rainbow assaulted their senses. As nightclubs go, it was overtly tasteful and elegant. The walls were dark and the décor was neo-art deco. The laser lights even formed art deco patterns as they slashed the darkness of the ceiling.  
  
The large room was filled with attractive men in various stages of Public Displays of Affection. Some of the men wore outlandish costumes, (Darien thought it might be costume night) but many were more conservatively and sharply dressed, the way Hobbes had managed, after much deliberation, to dress Darien. A half naked man with a black feather boa and body painted designs gave the boys a once over. He stuck his tongue out at Darien to display his barbell stud pierce. There was more leather and tattoos on display than at a biker convention, but the clientele was a mixed bag of fashion, as if some one had cast them in a play and wanted them to display a lot of variety.  
  
Several strikingly beautiful women dotted the tableau. The dance floor was crowded, and Madonna's latest derivative techo-club hit was throbbing annoyingly over the excellent sound system. It dove-tailed seamlessly into the other mind numbing numbers.  
  
Without prompting, Hobbes and Darien automatically began sizing up the lay of the land. One large room with 5 doors. Two bars. One very active door, perhaps a kitchen. Another was also well trafficked. It seemed to lead to another part of the club. The rest were used several times, except for one. In front of the short black hallway that led to it was a sign in large, unfriendly letters which read: Authorized Personnel Only.  
  
"See if you can find a table; I'll get some drinks. Keep your eyes peeled." instructed Hobbes.  
  
Somehow Darien managed to find a small table, and perched his lanky form on one of the stools. He kept taking stock of the outer doors, checked out the bars and scanned for odd behavior. That is too say, behavior that didn't fit the social norm set up in the club. Anyone who looked too nervous or too much in charge could be a lead.  
  
Out of the crowd emerged the most beautiful woman Darien had ever seen. She was model tall and thin, with sleek blond hair. Her legs were long and slender and clad with shimmering hose. Her skin tight leather mini skirt accentuated her hour glass form and her ample heaving bosom jiggled invitingly. Her little feet were propped up in stiletto heeled "take me" shoes. 'What was she doing in here?' Darien thought.  
  
"Hello, there!" she gushed, as she languidly approached Darien. He felt his palms go sweaty, and he suddenly he was back in Jr. High at some punch and cookie affair being approached by his grade school crush.  
  
"Ah, h..hello." he studdered, his mind numb.  
  
"You're new around here, aren't you? I'd have remembered YOU, if we'd met in the past." she purred in a rich alto voice.  
  
Darien didn't know what to say or do. He was staring stupidly at a goddess, "stupid" being the operative word.  
  
Hobbes finally returned with two drinks. A beer for himself and a giagantic froufrou frozen drink for Darien. The large thick glass was brimming with blue and yellow layers. A neon Pink Flamingo swizzle stick waded through the froth and a glass banana decoration hung off the side. The glass brimmed with several pieces of luscious looking fruit under and around the whipped cream. It was the House Specialty.  
  
With drinks in hand, he deliberately stepped between the "lady" and the dumbstruck Darien.  
  
"Take a hike, sister." He threatened. "He's mine." Darien was shocked and began to get angry.  
  
"Sorry. I thought he was alone." she pouted. Darien watched in awe as she wriggled off in a perfect imitation of Marilyn Monroe.  
  
"I'm YOURS???" Darien's jaw was on his chest. "Hobbes! What the hell did you do that for? I mean.Wow. I mean, she was.she was PERFECT. No, I'm HERS! I'm going after her!" As he began to rise, Bobby's hand gripped him firmly at his elbow.  
  
Bobby gave Darien a disgusted look waiting until a dim light went off in Darien's thick head as the fog began to clear.  
  
"She's a.?" Darien began in complete disbelief.  
  
Bobby nodded.  
  
"I knew that." Darien tried  
  
Bobby laughed out loud. "No you didn't! You were ready to go home with her. I should've let it happen. But, then I'd have to mop up the mess and I don't have the time or inclination right now." Bobby's hand masked his wide smirk as he continued to case the room. "Still, it might have been worth it!"  
  
"Hobbes!!!" Darien scolded.  
  
Darien's face had gone through a few stages of red, pink and orange. It didn't help that there were approving stares of interest being cast subtly and some not so subtly in his direction.  
  
Not missing a beat, Hobbes pulled his chair closer to Darien, and moved in next to the younger man. Hobbes had been garnering his own set of interested stares and glances, his taut build and good looks being noticed as well. It was time for a little long time companion nuzzling to hopefully advert the wandering eyes.  
  
At first Darien, winced and tried to back off, but Hobbes locked his arm firmly around his, drawing him closely with some force. He whispered into his ear, "Darien, if you don't play along, I'll break your neck, dear." He smiled to some of the folks who passed by their table.  
  
Darien resigned himself to further embarrassment. His partner was going to play at being more than his partner. And why hadn't he realized that sooner or later this little scene was gonna happen.  
  
"You know, I just love it when you take charge and whisper sweet nothings in my ear." Darien whispered into Hobbes' neck, as he ran his finger along Hobbes' jaw line thinking about punching his lights out. And he pushed the heel of his size 15s right down on Hobbes foot, just enough to pinch painfully, but not startle.  
  
"Stop that, darling. You're turning me on." Hobbes said with a mock twinkle in his eye.  
  
"I got you a drinky, poodle. It's your favorite." He pointed to the monstrous drink with a glance as his hand moved to cover Darien's derriere. He sipped his beer and licked the foam off his lips with exaggerated relish.  
  
Darien finally realized the parade float on the table was the drink that Bobby had gotten him.  
  
"I am SO gonna make you pay for this, Hob..honey bunches of 'O's'." Darien threatened and wrinkled his nose.  
  
Bobby just blinked coyly, smiling widely at his partner and not giving an inch.  
  
"I pay for this every day of my life, my friend."  
  
"OK then, 'Steve'. Let's do this, baby doll poopie-kins. Shall we?" Darien said as he mock leered into Hobbes' eyes. 


	5. Could be WorseIt's worse

Darien wrested his arm back from Hobbes, rose up and laid a big sloppy wet kiss on his partner's scalp. He waved a little toodle-loo as he dove into the madding crowd. In the confusion of flailing arms and bodies, and flashing lasers, he found a spot where he wasn't jammed up against writhing figures, and went see-through. It's amazing how easy it is to go unnoticed in a crowded room. He was already near the target back room door, and he ducked around the warning sign. Someone was coming out and the security clad door flew open, he seized the opportunity and invited himself to whatever party was behind the door.  
  
He found a long, darkened hall, illuminated by a few sconces. The blare of "It's Raining Men" began to fade as Darien progressed. He wanted to shed the Quicksilver, but he had the distinct feeling that even now he was being watched. He followed a maze of doors, hallways and rooms until the décor abruptly changed into Chrysalis Nouveau Fortress. Grey and stark.  
  
And Stark!!!  
  
Jarod Stark was sauntering down the hallway with a bevy of sycophantic assistants. He was dictating instructions and giving orders at a rapid pace. Darien had to flatten himself against the wall, hoping no one would reach out and touch him.  
  
He had the answer. This was indeed a nest of Chrysalis operations. Nuf sed! Time to get the hell outta here!  
  
As he turned to retrace his steps, he felt an all too familiar sting.  
  
He unwillingly shed his Quicksilver and tried in vain to reach the tranquilizer dart that had hit him squarely in the back.  
  
"Aw, crap." he muttered as he planted his face on the grey concrete floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Stark looking down at him.  
  
"Fawkes! Nice of you to drop by. If only you'd called first! You two couldn't have been more conspicuous if you'd sent a postcard on ahead! Good grief! You are BOTH as dumb as you look."  
  
Darkness began to envelope Darien. 


	6. I'm not a Madame! I the Consierge!

Hobbes was surreptitiously moving toward another door that had gotten his interest. Slowly, he became aware of two rather large, rather muscular specimens that flanked him. He tried to move out of their range, but found himself being held fast on either side. They were moving him toward the door he wanted to investigate. "He we go," he thought, as he allowed himself to be escorted to wherever they were taking him.  
  
He found himself deposited in a beautiful room, far from the sounds and images of the club. The thugs had silently withdrawn. He was alone now, and he continued his systematic observations. The décor was still in Art Deco, but was light and airy. There were lamps with tassels, and flocked wall paper, gushing velvet curtains with giant golden tassels, but some how everything looked fantastic in this environment. Guess it's a matter of context.  
  
Suddenly a vision made her entrance like a silent movie diva. She stood atop the stairs to the sunken living room and posed for effect. She was every bit as lovely as Darien's "girlfriend" from earlier, but her countenance showed a womanly maturity that Hobbes found quite intriguing. Her floor length gown reminded him of an Erté painting with its lines and sequins dotting its satiny white surface. The image was further punctuated by the crystal ball she held balanced at the tips of her long manicured fingers.  
  
Hobbes' breath was taken away for a split second.  
  
"I have been vatching you, Monsieur." she stated in a melodic alto.  
  
"Oh yeah?" he gulped involuntarily.  
  
"Oui. You are vedi intriguing. Vedi, vedi handsome." she stepped closer, her light and lovely cologne wafting through his nostrils as her hand touched is cheek.  
  
Hobbes flushed as she floated closer. "Get a grip", he thought. "What's wrong wit you, Hobbes, old boy!"  
  
"Do you know vat I see in my crystal? Huh?" she walked around him hypnotically waving the transparent ball around the room.  
  
"Um, no ma'am. I don't."  
  
Without thinking, Hobbes' followed the ball with his eyes. At first he saw only the room magnified through its lens effect, like staring through a droplet of dew. But then a familiar image began to emerge. She draped her arm over his shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her breath caressing his neck.  
  
"The Ouroboros."(4) She said in a hushed reverent tone. "It's an ancient symbol and vedi powerful. It evokes powers of life and deasths and transformation. He who bears zis mark and uses it is both blessed and cursed. Blessed wid friends but cursed wid ze threat of madness. He treads a dangerous course."  
  
In a daze, Hobbes was beginning to discern the outline of Darien's tattoo within the crystal. Most of its segments glowed blood red. He flushed and then just as suddenly he was chilled to the bone. Was he really seeing this?  
  
"I am Madame Zaza. I am the owner of zis club. And, I make it a point to know, everysing that goes on in my humble little night spot, especially ven intriguing and I might add beautiful boys make their way here."  
  
Hobbes' head was spinning. His sluggish brain recalled the few swigs of beer he'd had in the club, just to tease Darien about the gag with the drink. "Aw.crap." he thought.  
  
"Ah, but vere is your floppy little copain?" she breathed. "Ah yes, ze cards say zat he's wisiting an old friend. You see Monsieur Hobbes, I've been hoping to see you here. Ze cards foretold your wisit. They see all and show all to those who can discernt zeir messages. And, Arnaud has told me such zings about you."  
  
"Sonnofa." he intoned, shaking his head as he realized the web they'd just walked into to.  
  
"Ah ah." she scolded, wagging a talon tipped finger. "Zere will be none of zat. Zis is a joyous occasion, a reunion of opposing forces. The planets, zay are in perfect alignment."  
  
The two planet sized soft-stepping thugs had returned. If Hobbes hadn't been the agent he was he would not have known they were ready to escort him to the next party. Or carry him, as the drugs took their toll. 


	7. Be Prepared

"Be Prepared." Boy Scout motto. (5)  
  
Now, I was never a Boy Scout by any stretch of the imagination, but hey, that doesn't mean I can't pay attention when they give good advice.  
  
  
  
Darien had been tranqu-darted enough in the past to know it was not a good thing in enemy territory. With a modicum of foresight spurred by experience, he persuaded his Keeper to make up a little instant insurance package to defend against such an attack. It was to protect the gland, of course. The argument worked! And, it sure came in handy in the present situation.  
  
Before Darien had passed out, he reached into his pants' pocket and found the small nodule. He pushed it against his leg, jolting his system with a chemical shock that had him up and cloaked in an instant. As he bolted down the hall, Stark's group was dumbfounded.  
  
"Let him go. He won't get far." Stark ordered. "Advise the front team." And he resumed issuing instructions.  
  
Darien bolted back to the club, and began his search for Bobby. The sounds of the music and crowd bombarded him with more pain. The drugs coursing through his blood coupled with Quicksilver use made him feel dizzy, sick and disorientated.  
  
He shed the Quicksilver and frantically searched for Hobbes.  
  
"Side effects." he thought. "Ya just gotta love side effects."  
  
What was it that Claire had said to him after his thieving impulses made him snag the first nodule from her work bench when she wasn't looking?  
  
"It's just not ready yet, Darien. We'll need to do some serious testing before it goes into the field. There're several different tranquilizing agents. We don't know which one you are likely to get hit with and the drug interactions can be life threatening. Forget it, Darien. Not today."  
  
Her words haunted him now along with the painful reminder that his sticky fingers always got him into big trouble.  
  
"Note to self." he thought "No more stealing things. Anything. EVER!!!"  
  
He struggled through the crowd, made it to door number two, and stumbled in. Madame Zaza's boys were right behind him, unhurried and dispassionate. He figured them for Terminator fans. His body was rebelling against the chemical cocktail in his system and he fell on his knees with a thud.  
  
He looked up.  
  
"Dahlink! You haf come to wisit me at last!" she said, looking up from her Tarot layout on the white coffee table before her.  
  
"Albin! Renato! Help our young friend. I'm sure he'll love to reunite vith his Monsieur Hobbes!"  
  
The thugs lifted Darien by the arms and planted him in a big fluffy chair. Now the room was spinning around him, and Madame Zaza seemed to melt and flow like the contents of a lava lamp.  
  
"I haf a little surprise for you, my deahr." She swept a bracelet adorned arm over the table.  
  
Darien saw his partner in miniature form on the table, trying to stay out of the way. He was no taller than a Tarot card.  
  
"Fawkes!" he shouted. "I'm down here, buddy! It's me! Fawkes! They shrunk me! FAWKES!!!"  
  
Fawkes slid off the chair and down on his knees again looking at his diminished partner.  
  
"Oh, there you are! I'ffe bin lookin' fur you!" Darien slurred.  
  
"Fawkes! Fawkesy! It's me! LOOK! Le Phone SHRUNK me, dammit! Fawkes!"  
  
"Bobby! What did you do? Take the lifts outta your shoes?"  
  
"Argh! Fawkes! What's wrong with you?"  
  
"They didn't shrink you. They just put me way up here...in the rafters." He twirled his finger around, pointing to the ceiling. "Now, lisshion! Shark.Stark is here, and heeeth's theen me! We gotta get outta here."  
  
"Fawkes! Dammit! Snap outta it! And, just stay the hell away from the Spider Woman,(6) would ya? She in on this!"  
  
Darien's back went straight at the very mention of "spider" anything and he looked furtively around the room.  
  
"Hi there, SIR!" he said pointing at a very bemused Madame Zaza. "Yeah, I KNOW what you are! It's OK. I'm very liberal! I say, what ever makes you happy, ya know?"  
  
"Sank you, Dahrien." She chuckled.  
  
Darien broke into a ripple of giggles. "Hoo hoo! Where DID you get that hokey, accent?!" he gushed. "He he! I haven't heard anything that fake since Kevin Costner did Robin Hood!"  
  
Zaza's eyes narrowed. She'd had enough of playing with her prey. Time to strike.  
  
Arnaud de Ferhn had entered the room, enjoying the show.  
  
"Arnaud! Wow!" spouted Darien. "We'd heard you hung out with a Banana Hammock! Oh, and me without my camera."  
  
"Vel, Arnaud, deahr, here you have your two super spies. Sanks to your latest toy, you haf your Monsieur Hobbes, e's cut down to size and sanks to alcohol, you haf your Monsieur Fawkes."  
  
"He's not drunk, but close enough."  
  
"Hepless as kittenz! You must be pleased wit your vork."  
  
"I'll be happier when they're both neutralized.  
  
"Gentlemen," he addressed the thugs, "if you'll be so good as to remove Mr. Fawkes to the laboratory, I would be most grateful."  
  
Zaza's crystal ball hadn't revealed the mystic powers of Quicksilver madness. It had been triggered by the cocktail of drugs in Darien's system and the time he'd spent invisible.  
  
He was in the full throws of QSM just as they advanced on him. He was powered by pure adrenaline power, as he easily overpowered both monsters at once, smashing their heads together. He turned his blazing eyes toward the cowering pair of Arnaud and Zaza. They beat a hasty retreat through a door. Darien futilely threw himself against it as the bolt clicked into place.  
  
His murderous impulse not sated, he turned his rampage toward the coffee table that held his mini-partner and the crystal ball. Hobbes was in a panic, hiding behind the ball, which gave his image a fun house mirror quality. He watched as Darien's hand, enlarged by the ball, reached for his diminutive form.  
  
"Hey, 'boyfriend'!" Darien croaked. "We need to talk! I think I wanna break up."  
  
He grabbed for the crystal ball and smashed it down with drug enhanced force onto the table barely missing his fleeing partner. The shower of razor sharp splinters managed to bypass Hobbes as he leapt off the table and aimed for the couch. As he did so, he became full size. The force pushed him over the back of the couch and up-ended it, making it a temporary shield against his rampaging friend.  
  
Darien's lust for blood was still not satisfied. He popped his head behind the couch, startling Hobbes for all he was worth.  
  
The tall man grabbed at Hobbes' neck, but Darien was not the only one who followed Boy Scout mottoes. He broke Darien's death grip and slapped another nodule against Darien's neck in one swift move. This one contained an emergency supply of Counteragent; enough to quell Darien's madness and put him under until he could get the full dose that Hobbes had stashed in Golda. 


	8. Just Good Friends Really!

Back at Hobbes apartment the exhausted pair were on the couch with the TV's blue light flickering over their faces. Darien had been out cold, but started to stir. His head was propped on a pillow on Hobbes' lap and the rest of him was folded accordion style on the too short couch.  
  
Darien could make out that it was three AM on the clock over Hobbes small TV.  
  
The pain was subsiding. "It's about time", he thought.  
  
He struggled to get up. Two things stopped him: his own weak body and Bobby's strong arm pushing him down by his shoulder. Darien didn't remember where he thought he was going.  
  
Hobbes even pulled a throw over his partner.  
  
"Thanks, mom." Darien jibed.  
  
Just for good measure, he gave Darien a dope slap to the top of his head, but he was gentle and avoided compounding the pain of Darien's throbbing skull.  
  
"I have to admit that it feels good to lay here." he thought.  
  
"No I don't." he mumbled, to himself. Then he realized he spoke those words.  
  
"What 'no you don't'? No you don't have to go to school?" teased Hobbes.  
  
"No, I was just.Nevermind."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Alright, I do have to admit, I don't mind these moments. They seem to be few and far between. No case. No bullets. No bad guys. And, relatively speaking, no severe pain. I'll take it!  
  
The madness must have enveloped me. There were a lot of things going on last night. There was the tranq-dart and the counter dart thing. And the demon just came in and clutched me. But Hobbes caught me just in time, long before I knew what was happening. He caught me in mid-air as if I'd been tossed off a precipice into a fiery abyss. Nice to have a friend like that in the middle of all this madness, and I don't just mean QSM. Good to know he's keeping an eye on me. I wouldn't want to do this without him.  
  
The TV is flickering with a mindless infomercial. It's about some dumb rubber band work out machine that costs way too much. These sales people are much too peppy for 3 AM and much too buff to have gotten that way from THAT piece of trash. But, Hobbes is checking my progress and he's not really watching TV. It's just on and he doesn't even bother to channel surf.  
  
Now that's friendship.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
"Hey kid. Ready to wake up and go to sleep? I'll even tuck you in." Hobbes asked quietly as he touched Darien's cheek gently with the back of his fingers.  
  
"What happened? I mean, when I was 'under the influence'. Did I hurt anyone?" Darien's anxiety started to rise.  
  
"Relax, partner. Everything's just peachy. Hey, you don't have to move until you're ready. And, it's Saturday, so, we get to sleep in, big time. Fat Man wants his report, he can wait till we're on the clock!"  
  
"Thanks.  
  
"Um, Hobbes."  
  
"Yo."  
  
"I had the weirdest dream! There was this Hungarian French gypsy woman or man or something, and you were about the size of Tom Thumb and Arnaud and Stark were there, and I saw this incredibly fabulous babe, but she turned into a man and."  
  
Bobby dramatically brought the Pink Flamingo swizzle stick into Darien's view.  
  
"Aw.no!"  
  
"Yes, my friend, Chrysalis can now make Shrinky Dinks outta people and for grins and giggles they thought they'd try it out on me."  
  
"Now my life is just PERFECT." Darien groaned as he started to remember more details.  
  
"You remember smashing that dame's crystal ball?"  
  
"Um.yeah. Sort of."  
  
"And, that's when I got back to normal size."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Once Arnaud does the molecular reduction voodoo with his mystery machine, the victims still need a focusing lens to keep 'em tiny. Arnaud was good enough to brag to me about all the details. My report will give Claire somethin' to use her pretty little egghead to figure out."  
  
"Terrific! Don't you love it when the bad guys tell you their whole evil scheme?"  
  
"Oh, and I owe you something." Bobby leaned down a placed a big sloppy kiss on Darien's temple.  
  
"Yeeech!!!!!!!!" 


	9. Footnotes

Author's notes.  
  
(1) La Cage aux Folles (http://us.imdb.com/Title?0077288) is a classic French comedy that features the misadventures of an aging gay couple who run a nightclub. In the film, they must pass themselves off as heterosexual. It was remade in America as The Birdcage. See the French version. It's priceless!  
  
(1a) Lunatic Plot Contrivance (of the week). A phrase coined by Danny at http://www.toughpigs.com. Danny writes commentary on Farscape episodes, so it came in handy when describing some of the stuff that goes on in that great show.  
  
(2) This is an actual fortune cookie that I got while writing this story. Cool, huh?  
  
(3) An old joke goes: How do you find out if a guy is gay? Just say "Clang Clang Clang". If he says "Went the Trolley" he's gay. Evidently all gay men have a knee-jerk love of Judy Garland in Meet Me in St. Louis. g  
  
(4) http://www.dragon.org/chris/ouroboros.html Symbol used in the TV series Millennium and it's also Dana Scully's Tattoo. http://abacus.best.vwh.net/oro/ouroboros.html  
  
(5) The Boy Scouts gained notoriety by banning gay members.  
  
(6) Kiss of the Spider Woman (http://us.imdb.com/Title?0089424) with William Hurt and Raul Julia. Great movie! Must see for slash fans.  
  
Regarding mini-people in general: Modern audiences know about "Honey I Shrunk the Kids"! Tod Browning's The Devil-Doll was what I really had in mind. Other works: Jack Arnold's The Incredible Shrinking Man and Irwin Allen's Land of the Giants.  
  
I also figure if Invisible Man writers can give me Invisible Sasquatch (er, Predator?), then the gloves are off, and I can put whatever nonsense I want into my fan fic. 


End file.
